


Dick Simmons and His Magical Vibrating Robo-Arm

by TerminallyCapricious



Series: Grimmons [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, Sex Toys, Trans Dick Simmons, Trans Male Character, i s2g this isnt a joke fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 14:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16683355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerminallyCapricious/pseuds/TerminallyCapricious
Summary: "By the time he was stationed at Blood Gulch, Simmons had masturbation down to a well-organised scientific process, which is how he thinks things generally should be.Until one of his hands inadvertently became a sex toy."Simmons accidentally figures out that he can make his cyborg hand vibrate.Alternative title: A brief history of Dick Simmons' relationship with his junk





	Dick Simmons and His Magical Vibrating Robo-Arm

**Author's Note:**

> So,,, this was actually supposed to be a totally different fic about Grif eating Simmons out in the closet during the temple of procreation. There was gonna be squirting kink content too...
> 
> This was just meant to be the quick background for that fic but it took on a mind of its own so... look out for a separate fic about Simmons squirting soon I guess.

The first time Dick Simmons masturbated to completion was when he was 15.

 

He’d spent an entire hour chasing his orgasm down, laid on his back in his too-small bed with his legs stretched open for so long that he had to take breaks to relieve the ache in them. The friction of his middle finger against his clit had been uncomfortable, and the repetitive motions had cramped up the tendons in his hands. All in all, not stellar, but Simmons could imagine most people's first orgasms went something like that. And that’s before accounting for the lifelong general discomfort Simmons had for his body. 

 

But the way his whole body had buckled under him when he reached completion, the waves of pleasure he’d ridden for that short moment. He could also understand why people generally enjoyed orgasms. And so Simmons had spent his teenage years masturbating occasionally, though probably less frequently than most teenagers. He was exposed to sex positivity online as he explored his gender identity, and picked up a few new tricks over time. 

 

By the time he was stationed at Blood Gulch, Simmons had masturbation down to a well-organised scientific process, which is how he thinks things generally should be. Since enlisting, he only masturbated when his tensions were running just too high, which was surprisingly infrequent for such a highly-strung man. He knew the right spots to rub at, which fingers got sore the least, and roughly how long he would need to set aside to get the job done. Simmons was like a well-oiled machine when it came to the act of masturbation. This, coupled with the fact that privacy was at a stressful minimum in the army, meant that Simmons never had the means or the need to own a sex toy. He’d only ever gotten off by his own hands.

 

Until one of his hands inadvertently became a sex toy.

 

Simmons had been trying not to think about the implications of his cyborg surgery ever since it happened, it was a subject he very frequently pushed out of his mind. So when he pulled on the large rubber dishwashing gloves in the kitchen one afternoon, he paid no mind to the way he covered up the vent for his cooling system. 

 

That is, until his robot hand begun vibrating so harshly that he dropped a plate back into the sink. Panicked, he’d frozen up and stared down at his arm, totally unsure what was wrong, but feeling every muscle of his body lock up in horror. He’d violently ripped the glove off his arm to assess the damage, only to find that the vibration had stopped a moment after the glove was gone. The vent for his freon cooling system gave an unhappy hum as it worked to return the system back to an optimal temperature, but other than that, his arm was fine. 

 

Simmons had pulled out a chair from the dining table and slumped over in it as he focussed on returning his heart rate to normal, trying to puzzle out the ramifications of what just happened. Curiously, he took his human hand and used it to cover the small vent on his wrist. It only took a moment in the hot kitchen for his hand to start vibrating again, his cooling system emitting a low buzz as it did. He’d cautiously pressed the fingertips of his cyborg hand against his thigh, feeling the vibrations emanate through the fabric and gently massage the skin beneath. He’d allowed his fingers to slide slowly around his thigh, until they slipped along the inner seam of his off-duty khaki shorts and the vibration run up towards his crotch. He’d sucked in a gasp as his mouth fell open in shock, pausing with his hand frozen there for a few moments as the new reality of the situation dawned on him.

 

And so Simmons did something he’d never done, he abandoned the half-washed dishes.

 

He hastily grabbed the rubber glove he’d torn off before and headed to the bunk he shared with Grif, walking at a pace that he hoped didn’t look too hurried. Scanning his surroundings anxiously, Simmons felt like he was the luckiest person on this god-forsaken rock when he’d made it back to his bunk without running into anybody. Logically, he knew that Grif, Sarge, and Donut were stationed around the outside of the base and he was unlikely to run into them anyway, but he’d known the kind of bad luck that he tends to attract.

 

Simmons shut the door to his bunk and shoved off his shorts with an eagerness he was no longer concerned with keeping hidden. By his calculations, it had been nearly 4 week since he’d last masturbated, and the very idea of what he was about to do heated up his core before he had even begun to touch himself. He threw himself on his bed and awkwardly kicked his black boxer briefs off his long pale legs. He climbed under the sheets as an afterthought, an attempt to further dull the noise of the vibrations. Pulling on the dishwashing glove, he parted his thighs and waited. As his hand began to buzz under the thick rubber, he felt a shiver run down his spine, he bit his lips in nervous excitement. 

 

Lifting the covers and tucking his hand underneath, he rubbed his vibrating fingers up and down his labia, teasing himself, getting himself ready. When he ran his index finger around his clit, he felt his stomach drop and his eyes flutter shut. He rubbed his buzzing finger in small motions to the side of his clit, finding that direct contact was too overstimulating for the moment. 

 

Immediately he’d noticed the differences between this and his human hand. There was no dry friction like this, no cramps, no sore wrists, and every nerve in his body tingled as he explored himself with his new cyborg hand. He tilted his head back against his pillow, he could feel his release approaching faster than it ever had before, he’d only been going at it for a few moments. 

 

The gasps were uncontrollable now, happened with every breath that puffed past his lips. He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to be quiet as he felt his completion roaring towards him like a train with no breaks. Shifting his hand, he lightly squeezed his clit between his index and middle fingers. As the vibration surrounded him, it was like he had been punched in the gut. All of the air left him at once, he felt every muscle in his lower body constrict wildly, felt his pussy clench against the empty air, felt his human hand shaking from where it was grasping the sheets. It was unlike any orgasm he’d ever had before. 

 

Pulling his hand from between his legs, he removed the rubber glove and let his cyborg arm settle back into its normal state. He ran his human hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes, letting the contentment that warmed his lower gut stew there for a moment as he caught his breath. He could feel the slick that had doused the inside of his thighs, hoping to god that it hadn’t ruined his sheets. 

 

Pushing himself out of his bed, he rose up on legs that shook like a baby deer’s. Simmons pulled his boxer briefs back up and made his way into their shared restroom to clean himself up. Passing by the small digital clock on their shared, crappy set of drawers, Simmons noted that the whole affair had taken less than 5 minutes from when he’d walked in the door. His eyebrows rose as he considered how useful this new quirk could be, how much more often he could get himself off, how much more discrete he could be about it. 

 

Having cleaned himself up, Simmons bent to pick the rubber glove off the floor, tucking it safely under his mattress where it would stay hidden. And the rest is history. 

 

-

 

So they’re a group of men who live together on an army base.

 

It’s basically inevitable that they would catch each other masturbating.

 

Simmons and Grif share a room for fucks sake, and they share their bathroom with Donut. The pink soldier has been lucky to get the adjoining room to himself, but that said, nobody had particularly wanted to share a room with Donut. 

 

The problem with Donut was that he was loud, and he either didn’t realise or didn’t care. Simmons couldn’t count the amount of evenings where he had been lying in bed, covering his head with his thin, shitty, army-issue pillow to block out the noises coming from the next room over. And Simmons was normally pretty good at counting.

 

Grif, thankfully, was a lot more subtle; there were only a few times where Simmons had noticed the unmistakable rusting of sheets on the other side of the room, the heavy, rhythmic breathing. In moments like these, Simmons had laid perfectly still and pretended to be asleep, thinking about  _ anything _ else and trying his absolute hardest to not make it weird. But what made it weird, every time, without fail, was the fact that Simmons had a range of conflicting feelings about his bunkmate. He hated Grif’s work ethic, hated that the orange soldier got away with doing nothing, but he wasn’t a terrible friend, and given the circumstances Simmons was going to take what he could get. Most of the time, this arrangement was fine, the two had a contemptuous friendship full of quick digs at each other but were generally amicable. 

 

The complications come in when Simmons thinks of Grif in a less platonic sense.

 

Simmons blames blood gulch. In no other circumstance would he find someone with Grif’s personality attractive at all. Maybe it was the fact that he was literally just the best prospect, maybe standing out under the heat of an alien sun for hours every day in a suit with broken air con had actually driven him to madness, Simmons wasn’t sure exactly. Regardless, it was safe to say that Simmons had something of... a crush. Not that he ever would say that. Not in his head and definitely not out loud. 

 

His feelings made their banter feel like flirting, especially when they got to insulting each other, made him blush and stare holes in the ground when he walked into their bunk and found Grif partway through dressing. And above all, it was his feelings that made it  _ weird _ when he knew his bunkmate was masturbating, so Simmons was glad that Grif was a lot less conspicuous about it than Donut was.

 

Simmons, however, had never been caught masturbating. He’d made absolutely sure of it. He had the timing, the technique, the absolute  _ science _ of it so perfected that he would never have to deal with anybody knowing that he masturbated,  _ ever _ . 

 

But that was before this new… development.

 

Simmons’ sudden access to a vibrator changed the whole equation, he could be quick, he could be efficient, he could  _ cum more often. _ That last point was starting to be a really exciting prospect. 

 

-

 

It was the following day when Simmons found himself at the end of a particularly long patrol with Grif. They’d spent the whole day exchanging mocking banter that felt an awful lot like flirting, and he’d watched Grif pull his under armor off the second they’d walked into the base, watched him wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Despite having gotten off yesterday, Simmons found himself a little pent up. 

 

It wasn’t abnormal when he told the orange soldier that he was going to take a shower, the two of them had spent the day out under the hot sun, and Simmons was nothing if not a clean freak. When he reached their shared room, he crouched by his bed and pulled out his rubber glove, quickly smuggling it into his shirt and slipping into the bathroom. He could hear Donut moving around in the next room over and made sure to lock the door that joined the pink soldier’s room to their shared bathroom.

 

Simmons turned the water on, the pressure was pathetic out in the barren gulch, but the heat of the planet meant that it never got too cold, even when they’d run out of hot water. Simmons pulled off the top half of his under armor and pulled on the rubber glove. As he waited for his cooling system to start complaining, he pulled his clothes off the rest of the way and evaluated himself in the mirror.

 

Standing stark against his pale skin were purpley-red surgical scars, they ran down the middle of his torso where his flesh met his cyborg body. On his human side he had his top surgery scars, much paler due to their age, but still visible against the harsh white of his body. Simmons had mused over the colours of his scars before. He knew that Grif’s scars from the surgery were a much paler colour than his own tan skin, silvery almost, they matched the thick stretch marks that ran up his sides and along his upper arms. Simmons supposed it must be the difference in their skin tones. He ran his human hand over the uneven bumps that the lines made along his chest and stomach, briefly brushing the old scars that sat under his chest. He wondered what Grif’s scars would feel like. 

 

At this point, Simmons was startled out of his train of thought as his hand started buzzing. He felt an obvious blush rise in his cheeks- another side effect of his light pallor- as he shook his head to banish all thoughts of touching Grif. He opened the glass door and stepped into the shower, silently thankful that the noise of the running water mostly covered the sound of his vibrating hand. He could hear the light buzzing, but Donut pretty definitely couldn’t. 

 

Simmons stepped under the water and let it run down his heated skin for a moment, he pushed his hair back from his face with his human hand and let out a silent sigh. He regarded the soap for a moment before deciding to wait until after his… business was finished.

 

He trailed his cyborg hand, clad in the rubber glove, down his chest, held his vibrating fingers over his nipple for a moment, giving it a light pinch which made his hips buck involuntarily. Simmons moved on, sliding his hand down to between his legs. He was eager to get going, and anxious about how long he might take, he was still perfecting this new method of masturbation. 

 

Simmons braced his hand against the glass wall of the shower and bent slightly at his waist, he parted his legs, hoping that keeping his knees locked would stop them from buckling underneath him when he came. His normally deft fingers were awkward and clumsy as they rubbed at the soft skin of his pussy. An unfortunate side effect of the unwieldy gloves. He considered alternatives for the future, maybe wrapping a strip of duct tape over the vent would work? For the moment, however, he continued to tease himself, rubbing his vibrating fingers over the slit between his legs, paying attention to every spot except the one that begged for it the most. Curious, he let his middle finger poke against his entrance, fingertip just barely entering himself. He wasn’t wet enough to continue like this, but he made a mental note about g-spot stimulation for future masturbation sessions. 

 

Simmons licked his lips and refocused his efforts, pressing his finger against the side of his clit, feeling the firm nub among the hot folds of skin. He gnawed at his lower lip and let his eyes flutter shut, trying desperately to think of anything besides Grif. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to look his bunkmate in the eye for weeks if he let himself think of Grif. If he let himself think of the way the sweat had run down his tan skin, the way you could see the solid muscles of his thick arms bulge when he moved them, the way he rolled his broad shoulders to remove the tension after a long day of work. 

 

Simmons was failing miserably at keeping his mind off Grif.

 

As if the universe decided he needed more punishment, it was at that moment that Simmons heard the door click open.

 

“Hey, kissass,” Grif’s voice rang through the bathroom and Simmons felt every muscle in his body seize up. “Just gotta grab my-”

 

Grif took in the scene before him. Naked Simmons, ok, that’s nothing new, they bunked together, they shared a bathroom, Grif is normally pretty comfortable with walking in while Simmons is in the shower. Maybe Simmons was less than comfortable with Grif doing that, but the orange soldier maintains that it’s only weird if they make it weird.

 

Naked Simmons had his hand buried between his legs though, this was new, and it definitely made it weird. 

 

Grif felt like he was frozen in place, his feet rooted to the floor and he noticed more and more details of the situation. Simmons also seemed shocked into paralysis, his hand still buried between his thighs and- is that? A kitchen glove? Grif couldn’t help but appreciate the slight curve of Simmons’ back as he was bent forward, the way it pushed his ass out. He noticed the spread of his long, thin legs, already affected by a slight tremble. Grif picked up the blush that dusted his bunkmate’s cheeks, making his freckles all the more obvious. And he registered the buzzing noise that filled the room.

 

Simmons seemed to notice this around the same time as Grif did and immediately jumped into action, ripping his hand out from between his legs and yanking the glove off, throwing it to the floor like it was dangerous. The buzzing took a good few moments to stop and it was in this time that Grif realised it had been coming from Simmons’ cyborg hand. He watched Simmons’ blush grow deeper and deeper, felt his mouth fall open a little, as he considered the implications of what he’d just seen.

 

Simmons’ hand had been… vibrating. 

 

And he’d had it buried between his legs.

 

Grif felt his face heat up to match Simmons’ as he thought about his teammate- his friend- using his new body parts like a built-in sex toy. Fuck that’s… really hot.

 

He was trying to figure out how the rubber glove worked its way into the scenario when Simmons spoke up, breaking the silence.

 

“P-please leave.” Simmons buries his burning face in both his hands which muffles his next words, “Jesus fuck please leave.”

 

Grif realised immediately that he had been staring, mouth open, for the last- well, it was probably only a moment, but it had felt like an hour. “S-sorry, fuck.” He turned on his heel and shut the bathroom door behind him on his way out.

 

Grif made his way over to his bed and collapsed onto it, the cheap springs squeaking under the sudden weight. He ran his hand through his hair and let out a long breath. His free hand reached down absentmindedly to give a squeeze at the traitorous bulge starting to grow in his pants. He knew he had complicated feelings for Simmons, but he was way too fucking tired to psychoanalyse this bullshit after the day he’s had. He gave himself one last rub and rolled over to fall asleep.

 

-

 

They didn’t talk about it. Of course they didn’t. 

 

Simmons avoided Grif’s eyes for a solid week, which was actually pretty easy when they wore their helmets. 

 

Once the tension has dissipated enough, they found themselves sitting on the ratty old couch in the base together, watching Battlestar Galactica in a reasonably-comfortable silence. 

 

Grif broke the silence, attempting to kickstart their friendship back up with a lighthearted dig at Simmons. 

 

“So what was the rubber glove for?”

 

Simmons hunched over, buried his head in his hands, and made a sound like he was dying. Without responding, he got up off the couch and left to go die of embarrassment in their bunk. 

 

As embarrassed as he was that evening, the two of them were back to their companionable bickering the next morning. Grif happened to know their friendship pretty well after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a million essays lately so sorry if this is janky ive like forgotten how to write fiction lmao
> 
> bear with tho im v keen to write that closet sex fic


End file.
